


Corps-à-corps

by hapakitsune



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Olympics, Swords & Fencing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya is a fencer at the Olympics and Gendry is her coach. Trying to win the gold is difficult enough without her childhood crush coming back to haunt her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corps-à-corps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperclipbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/gifts).



> This was written for the prompt [here](http://ivoryandgold.livejournal.com/45065.html?thread=960521#t960521)!
> 
> I know very little about fencing, so this was all cobbled together from YouTube videos, Wikipedia, and some consultation with amateur fencers. I made some mistakes re: scheduling of the Olympics, but let's pretend that's not the case.

"Your stance is off," Gendry calls, and Arya turns to glare at him. "Don't give me that look."

"It's better than yours," Arya snaps, but she obediently turns her feet and adjusts her arm. "Better?"

"Much," Gendry says dryly, and Arya rolls her eyes.

"You know," she says later after she has showered and changed back into street clothes, "you're really a terrible coach."

Gendry raises his eyebrows at her as he hands her a water bottle. "Really."

"You never fence against me," she says. "Syrio used to fence against me."

"That's because you're a lot better than I am," Gendry says. "And Syrio was -- he was Syrio."

Arya has to acknowledge the point. Gendry isn't bad, not by any stretch of the imagination, but Syrio had won the gold three times and had trained Arya since she was a child until he died. She still isn't sure what he had seen in her scrawny ten year old self that had made him sure that she would be good enough to train, but it's a legacy that has stuck with her ever since. Bran had emailed her a few days ago just to tell her that he had overheard some people saying that she is the favourite to win the gold, and Arya is good, she knows that, but it's a lot to carry.

"I just need more practice against other people," she says. She tilts her head back to chug her water, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I don't know if I can beat Brienne."

"You have to stop thinking in terms of individual opponents," Gendry says. "And I don't think that practicing with me will prepare you for her."

"You're just scared," Arya accuses. "Tomorrow, Gendry, you are practicing with me."

He makes a face, but Arya is determined and she isn't going to let him back out this time. "Fine," he says with a sigh. "Just -- do me a favour and try not to worry too much? You're only eighteen and this is your first Olympics. You have at least two more in you."

"I'm not worried," Arya lies. Judging from the look he gives her, he can see through it.

"Sleep, eat," he adds. "See you tomorrow."

\----

Arya half-expects Gendry to back out of the agreement, but when she shows up for practice the next day, he's already dressed and waiting. "Hurry up," he yells, and she gives him the two fingered salute before ducking into the locker room.

She can count on her hands the number of times she has fenced with Gendry, who generally prefers a more hands-off approach to fencing (something she suspects comes from her brothers' completely unnecessary overprotective streak), and the thing is that he's incredibly hard to predict. He doesn't seem to think like most people, and Arya likes that. It makes it more challenging.

She lifts her sabre and waits until Gendry says, "Go," before lunging forward.

The thing is that she's faster than Gendry, but he knows her style so well that he's able to deflect her and keep her moving, trying to tire her out. She spots what he's doing, but falls for his feint and swears when he hits her in the ribs.

He calls a stop after an hour and pulls off his helmet, grinning. "That was actually fun," he says.

Arya tugs off her helmet too and smiles. "It was," she says, and they stand there for a moment, grinning at each other goofily until Gendry shakes his head and tells her to take a break.

He takes her out to lunch, which is unusual for him, and they eat mostly in silence until Arya bursts out, "Why did you quit?"

She's been wondering about this for ages, because she's seen the video of Gendry and she knows that he was genuinely good, good enough to place if he had ever bothered going for the Olympics, but he had quit and started coaching Arya instead. Fencing against him today has just reminded her of how much potential he's wasting.

Gendry smiles, sadly, and says, "My mum got sick."

"Oh," Arya says. She pokes at her food. "And then my mother hired you."

"I needed the money more than anything," Gendry says. "And I liked you."

"I was a brat," Arya says.

"You're still a brat," Gendry replies, and then says, "Hey!" when she flicks some water from her glass at him.

After that, though, it's too late for Arya to think too much about why Gendry gave up fencing or why it makes her sad that he had to quit, because she's off to London. Her hotel room is so nice that she spends nearly a full day sleeping in the incredibly soft bed until Gendry comes to drag her out to the opening ceremony.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" he asks her when they're heading back to their hotel afterward. "I mean, I know you're ready, but --"

"I'm ready," she says quietly, looking up at him. "Thanks to you."

He smiles at her, and it's the same smile he always gives her, fond and exasperated and proud all rolled into one, but this time she shivers a little. His expression changes, just a little, and Arya opens her mouth to say something, she doesn't know what.

"You should go to sleep," Gendry says abruptly, stepping away from her. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Yes," Arya says, stepping back. "I'll -- yes."

Gendry turns and hurries away, muttering under his breath. Arya watches him go until she realizes what she's doing, and then she kicks herself, because she is eighteen years old, not the starstruck twelve year old with a crush she once was.

She sleeps badly and does poorly in her match in the morning. She wins, only because she manages to pull herself together halfway through, but it's a narrow victory and she can tell that people are whispering about it when she leaves. Gendry catches her arm when she comes out of the locker room, her hair still dripping from her shower, and asks, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she says. He looks at her until she sighs and holds up her pinky. "I promise."

He hooks his pinky around hers, and then he hits her gently over the head. "Get in it, Stark," he says. "You're at the Olympics."

"I hadn't realized," Arya says, and she goes back to her room to brood.

\---

"I lied," she says when Gendry opens his door. He squints at her, his hair mussed and falling into his eyes. She really wants to push it back. She shoves her hands into her pockets to stop herself and steadfastly looks at his face rather than his bare chest. "I'm not okay."

"All right," Gendry says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, but I probably should." Arya shifts from foot to foot until Gendry opens the door wider to let her in. She sits down at his desk and worries at her thumbnail until Gendry taps her hand away from her mouth.

"Stop that," he says. "And what is it?"

"Do you miss it?" she asks instead of answering the question. "Fencing?"

Gendry blinks at her. "You came to my room at two in the morning to ask me if I miss fencing?"

Arya crosses her arms and waits for him to answer. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Of course I miss it."

"Then why are you coaching me instead?" she asks.

"Because I like you," Gendry says, as if that's reason enough. "Do you not want me to be your coach anymore?"

"No, that's not the --" Arya waves her hand vaguely. "No, I love y -- having you as my coach."

Gendry narrows his eyes at her. "Then what is it, Arya?"

"I just -- you could be doing _other things_ ," Arya says. "I don't understand why you're here with me." 

"I'm here with you because I want to watch you win," Gendry says. "And that's more fun for me than anything else in the world, Arya."

Arya stares at him. After a moment, she says, "You are extremely weird."

"You're the one who decided to come to my room at two in the morning to interrogate me," Gendry says. "You should be asleep."

"Yeah," Arya agrees. She slides off his desk and starts for the door. Gendry grabs her and steers her towards the bed instead. "What?"

"Go to sleep," Gendry says. She sits on the end of his bed and frowns at him. "Just go to sleep, Arya."

Arya lies down, still confused, but the pillow smells like Gendry, and she's exhausted, so she's halfway to sleep before she feels Gendry get in on the other side. She barely has time to process that before her body gives up on her and drags her to unconsciousness.

She wakes earlier than she meant to, and it takes her a minute to realize that it's because she can hear the shower going. She sits up and rubs at her face, feeling much better than she had the day before. A moment later, the shower switches off and Gendry comes out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Oh," he says, spotting her. "I thought you'd still be asleep."

"I, um, what?" Arya manages to say, dragging her eyes up his damp chest to his dripping hair. "That's just unnecessary," she adds, a little desperately.

"What?"

"Nothing, never mind," Arya says. "I'm going to go back to my room, okay? Okay."

Gendry just nods absently as she gets up and scurries from the room.

There are very few challenges in life that Arya cannot match, but when it comes to dealing with Gendry in the face of her newly revived infatuation, she feels absolutely no shame in taking the coward's way out and avoiding him as much as possible. She doesn't need to be distracted in the middle of the Olympics.

She wins her next matches easily, and soon it's been whittled down to her and Brienne. She watches Brienne stretch, the maple leaf on her back rippling with her muscles, and winces to herself. She's seen Brienne's matches, and she's fierce, fast, and a sharp observer. She's the defending champion, too, and Arya is about half her size.

"Don't psych yourself out too much," Gendry says from behind her, and she jumps. He smiles and rests his hand on her shoulder for a moment. "You're good, Arya. Just focus and don't think about anything but the match."

"Easy for you to say," Arya mutters. She takes her helmet from him. "Kiss for luck?"

She's mostly kidding and is already turning away when his mouth catches the corner of her lips, light and dry. She freezes in surprise and turns to look at him, knowing she probably looks ridiculously bug-eyed.

He smiles and says, "Go win us a medal, Arya."

Arya nods jerkily and kind of stumbles forward before shaking herself out of it and reminding herself that she is a goddamn Olympian. She can do this.

The moment the match starts, Arya knows that she's outmatched. Brienne is even more intimidating in person than she is in the videos Arya had studied religiously, and she's forcing Arya back quickly. Arya sucks in a breath as she heads back to her starting spot and tenses her body, ready to lunge.

The match goes on for longer than she thinks anyone expects it to, and by the end, Arya's chest is burning and she's exhausted, but she's exhilarated too, because Brienne is a challenge like no one else has ever been. When they finish and Brienne is declared the winner, Arya can't even feel disappointed by it. She shakes Brienne's hand and says, sincerely, "Thank you."

"You fought well," Brienne says. "You'll be the one with the gold next time."

Arya smiles at her. "We should practice together some time."

"I'd like that," Brienne says, and then they're pulled apart by teammates and well-wishers and Arya doesn't see Gendry amongst any of them. She hopes he isn't disappointed -- she hopes that Bran and her mother aren't either -- but she hardly has time to worry about it before they're dragged off to be awarded their medals.

She spots Gendry as the strains of Oh Canada begin, and she smiles at him. He lifts his hand in greeting, and she grins harder, ducking her head. 

She finds him the moment she's free to go, after the reporters get bored with her and moved onto the bronze medalist, and he starts to say, "Arya, I'm so sorry," and she kisses him before he's able to finish.

When she steps back, his eyes are closed and his mouth is moving slightly. She hits his shoulder until he looks at her. "Don't be sorry. I have a medal."

"It isn't the one you wanted," Gendry says.

Arya shrugs. "If I had to lose to anyone, Brienne Tarth isn't so bad." She takes her medal from around her neck and gestures for him to bend. "Here." She slips it around his neck and pats him on the chest. "You deserve to wear it for a bit."

"Arya --"

"Shut up and accept it, Gendry," Arya says. She waits until he straightens up, then kisses him again. This time, he kisses her back, his hands coming up bracket her hips, and she wraps her arms around his neck after a moment.

"You realize," he says when they pull apart, "that we're definitely on camera right now?"

"And Sansa is going to send me an appalled text message in an hour, but I just won the silver medal at the Olympics, so I think celebration is in order," Arya says.

"I'm your coach," Gendry says weakly.

"Please," says Arya.

"Okay, yeah," Gendry says, "I didn't really think that would work," and he smiles at her until she rolls her eyes and kisses him just so she doesn't do something ridiculous like tell him she loves him.

\---

18:32 Wed, Aug 1  
 _I saw you and Gendry on television. Very dignified._

18:50 Wed Aug 1  
 _you're just jealous, sansa_

Gendry pulls the phone out of Arya's hand before she can send anything else and sets it on his bedside table. "There'll be time to taunt your sister later," he says.

Arya pushes at him until he rolls onto his back, and she climbs on top of him, smirking. "But it makes this so much more fun," she says.

"Then I'm not doing my job," Gendry says, and he pulls her down towards him.


End file.
